


No Place I'd Rather Be

by itstartswith_aardvark



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: One Shot, Songfic, behold the fruit of my suffering, lots of fluff, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:48:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7517596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstartswith_aardvark/pseuds/itstartswith_aardvark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't help but think of these two knuckleheads when I hear this song. I 100% believe Sam would love terribly cheesy haunted houses and finding turtles at the pier in the morning.</p></blockquote>





	No Place I'd Rather Be

_When I am with you_  
"Hey man, I have an extra ticket to the game tonight if you're not doing anything." Sam holds out the ticket and he takes it, smiling sheepishly.  
"I can't think of anything," _more important than you,_ he omits. It's hot and the air is still, even with hundreds of people jeering and yelling. A fight nearly breaks out a couple rows down from them and by the time the game's over both of them are exhausted and drenched in sweat. It's the most fun he's had in months.

_There's no place_  
"Really, you don't have to do this. I've done more than this by myself before," Sam protests, plastic sheeting billowing against the open window behind him. The walls are patched with blotches of sample paint and strips of tape. Steve rolls his eyes and smiles, taking the can of paint just the same. Sheer willpower forces the blush from his cheeks.  
"It's no problem and you know it."  
_I'd rather be_  
"But don't you have a press conference in an hour?" He gives Sam a deliberately flat look as he cracks the can open, splattering white paint across the front of his shirt.  
"Oh, I can't wear this, it's covered in paint. Looks like I can't go." Sam laughs and the world stops for a moment to listen.  
"Well if you're set on helping me grab the brushes from the corner." He obliges, feeling more than pleased with himself.

_As long as we're together_  
"Remind me why the hell I let you talk me into this?" He doesn't need a reminder. Those big brown eyes could talk him into anything. Even going through a haunted house like a child. The flashing lights and digital screams are cheesy at best but his heart's racing nonetheless. But then again, he's not entirely convinced that's why. The corridor goes narrow and Sam presses close to him as they walk. No, the realistic stab wounds in the actress on the floor screaming have nothing to do with the flutter in his chest.  
"Because haunted houses are fun and you need a break from all that paperwork." He says, dodging a plastic arm that comes from the wall. The lighting worsens as they go into a hospital section of the house, set up to resemble a genetic experiment gone wrong. It sets an odd feeling afloat in Steve's stomach. Memories tweak and spark somewhere deep in his mind. He feels a warm hand on his shoulder just as one threatens to surface. "You okay? You got kinda pale." His eyes seek out the voice in the darkness and settle on Sam's face, drawn into a concerned frown. "We can go if you're uncomfortable," He notices the feeling subside as quickly as it came.  
_My heart continues to be_  
"No," he swallows and nods. "I'm good." It isn't until after they escape into the cool night air that he realizes Sam had laced their fingers together in the hospital house. It isn't until he drags him in and out of the next house with their hands still locked together that he realizes that neither of them have any intentions of letting go.

_If you gave me a chance_  
"Thanks for saving me back there, I don't think I could handle another one of Nat's date suggestions." Sam chuckles and leans back against the wall, hands settled comfortably in his pockets. The city lights throw colorful glare across his face and the moon sets a halo aglow above his head. The night is warm and breezy and the stars burn as bright as the joy in his eyes.  
"Saving your skin is what I do, even if it's just from meddling do-gooders."  
"You don't get it, she sets me up with girls that I have nothing in common with." It's true; the last girl he went on a date with at Natasha's suggestion just took pictures of her dinner the whole time and didn't tip the waitress.  
"In common like?" Sam muses.  
"I don't know, likes morning runs and blues, someone that's patient and funny, someone-"  
"Like me,"  
_I would take it_  
He looks down, searching for strength in the top stitching of his shoes.  
"Well,"  
_It's a shot in the dark_  
Eventually he meets his eyes, so bright and full of silent anticipation. He wants to take it all back, rewind the night to when his love was unrequited and everything made sense. Now he's standing face to face with the person that makes his knees weak and his heart sing and he isn't sure which is scarier: the idea that the feeling isn't mutual or the fact that it is. Even filled with uncertainty he knows that it's now or never, and it's clear to him which of those is scarier.  
"Not someone like you."  
_But I'll make it_  
He moves forward and inch. One turns to two, inches to feet and suddenly he's there and his lips are on Sam's and they're softer than he dreamed. When he finally comes up for air he's gasping, knocked breathless by the weight of the moment.  
"You."

_Know with all of your heart_  
"You're sure about this? This isn't exactly something you can undo," Sam squeezes his hand tighter. This day two years ago he wasn't, but an instant on a rooftop changed that. Now there's nothing in this life or the next that'll make him change his mind. He squeezes back and smiles.  
_You can't shake me_  
"Do I love you?" Sam exhales a shaky laugh and sighs.  
"I take that as a yes."  
_When I am with you_  
They walk out, hand in hand, even as the cameras flash and reporters swarm. The front pages of every magazine in print feature them the next morning, not to be rivalled by them in person, strolling hand in hand from a coffee shop.  
_There's no place_  
"Wanna head down to the pier?" Sam suggests, blowing steam from his coffee. "There are turtles this time of morning," Steve smiles and kisses him and the people they pass don't exist.  
"Sure."  
_I'd rather be_

**Author's Note:**

> I can't help but think of these two knuckleheads when I hear this song. I 100% believe Sam would love terribly cheesy haunted houses and finding turtles at the pier in the morning.


End file.
